University of Virginia Library

To Phillis the faire Sheepheardesse.

My Phillis hath the morning Sunne,
at first to looke vpon her:
And Phillis hath morne-waking birds,
her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-featherd flowres,
that smile when she treads on them:
And Phillis hath a gallant flocke,
that leapes since she dooth owne them.
But Phillis hath too hard a hart,
alas that she should haue it:
It yeelds no mercie to desert,
nor grace to those that craue it.
Sweete Sunne, when thou look'st on,
pray her regard my moane.
Sweete birds, when you sing to her,
to yeeld some pitty, woo her,
Sweet flowers that she treads on,
tell her her beauty deads one
And if in life her loue she nill agree me:
Pray her before I die, she will come see me.